Clear Rain filled up the cups. Then she took her lute and sang:
An Ching-hsu said: “That is a song of sadness. I thought that you were going to sing a cheerful song.”
Honeysuckle sang without music:
An Ching-hsu said: “That song is as sad as the other. Why do you both play on the strings of my heart?”
Honeysuckle said to Clear Rain: “It would be wise for you to go and see about that roll of flowered silk. We cannot expect the shopkeeper to save it for us to the detriment of his other customers’ interests. You could take Cinnamon with you.” When Clear Rain and Cinnamon had gone, Honeysuckle poured out more wine for An Ching-hsu, and shared his cup. The wine (for it was old) soon had the desired effect on him, and Honeysuckle, who knew well that from
A little later she asked: “And your father was very fond of the Lady Yang? I wonder that he does not go to see how she died. If the stories are true, he would like to know: if they are untrue, he would like to know. The answer is at Ma Wei.”
An replied: “He has been thinking of going, but always some official business comes between him and his purpose. You know, I think, how busy he has been persuading the neighbourhood that he brings peace to his subjects?”
Honeysuckle said: “Maybe. But a man who has a question eating at his heart like a rat at a sack of grain is in poor case to convince other people of his one-heartedness. Let him go to Ma Wei and find out. Could you not go with him? We know the daughter of the man on whose estate she stayed: she would tell us more than she would tell to a stranger. Let us all go: we can pretend that it is a holiday in the old days, when all was peace and men thought of other things than killing each other. Now, laugh! For you are nicer when you laugh.”
“Little fool!” he answered, not untenderly. “Why do you want to go to Ma Wei? Well, it does not matter why—I will try to get my father to take us all. The change from ruling suspicious people will do his health good. No—come back here. I know as many tricks as you do. Now . . .”
Clear Rain, driving, shook the horses’ reins free and turned to Honeysuckle.
“I have always wanted to drive a carriage with silver rein tips,” she said. “It is indeed different from the last time we came in this direction. Do you remember?”
They were crossing the Wei, after having passed the slope of Beautiful Waters.
Honeysuckle said, pointing to the bridge: “The Emperor’s troops broke down this bridge when they retreated, although the Emperor had not wanted them to do so lest the people from Chang-an should not be able to escape from the hands of the rebels.”
Clear Rain answered: “I know. But it is mended now, so what does it matter?”